My collective vulnerability

I want to haunt you again. I miss seeing the passion flourish so hard, we had no choice but to push each other to our breaking point. I believe you can still show me real love.

I try to detach, but I'd rather let love destroy me. I need to keep the hope, as it's the residue of the love I've once felt. But the minutes still hurt me. Still hit me hard.

It's still hard to sit with the discomfort, but it's our morality to embrace. Its like being honey, scraped off of its comb. White wax dripping on its glass, yelling at me that time is passing.

Why does the floor feel so good? Why can't the angels help me? I suppose I cannot force anything. I suppose it's time to wish it all sincerely.

Am I becoming new? Am I returning to myself? I can't decide, while the months continue to blur.

Take me as I am. Or maybe the moon will. We're both very good at staying up when we're not supposed to. I still want to go with you though.